


The Archaeologist and the Disco Ball

by saltnhalo



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Fluff, Halloween, Halloween Costumes, Love Confessions, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-27 04:42:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12573960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltnhalo/pseuds/saltnhalo
Summary: When Dean had agreed to take Castiel shopping for a costume to wear to Meg’s Halloween party this Friday, he had not expected the actual expedition to be so…difficult.





	The Archaeologist and the Disco Ball

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thepopeisdope](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepopeisdope/gifts).



> Happy birthday, Makenna! I'm sorry that this isn't as good as I wanted it to be and there's none of my trademark great smut, but you asked for Destiel and silver morphsuits a while back and I couldn't not deliver. Love you lots, and thank you for being a fantastic friend. This one's for you <3

When Dean had agreed to take Castiel shopping for a costume to wear to Meg’s Halloween party this Friday, he had not expected the actual expedition to be so… _difficult_.

Dean himself had naturally gravitated towards the adventuring type costumes, pulling a costume off the rack at random and grinning at the hat and whip that came with it. The faux leather jacket he can do without – he has his own at home that will look much better – but the rest of it is perfect, and just what Dean had been looking for.

Cas, on the other hand, has to be one of the most indecisive motherfuckers Dean has ever met.

He wanders aimlessly about the store, drifting from rack to rack and occasionally separating the hangers to get a better look at the displayed costumes, but never actually pulling one off the rack. Whenever Dean shows him an option, Cas’s dark brows draw into a thoughtful frown, and then, every time without fail, he shakes his head.

It’s infuriating; he’d thought the guy would be easy to please, as happy to select a costume at random as he is pulling a book off the library shelf to read. But no matter how long he’s been friends with Cas, the guy is always throwing him curveballs.

Today’s curveball is the metallic silver morphsuit that Castiel pulls off a rack at the back of the store, with a smile just as bright and twice as wide.

_Goddammit._

“Whatcha doin’ with that, Cas?” Dean asks, keeping his tone casual as he eyes the thing with carefully masked disdain. That’s not a _costume_ – unless Cas wants to go to Meg’s party as a damn disco ball.

“I want this,” Cas tells him, mesmerized by the shine and glimmer of the suit even under the shitty fluorescent lighting of the costume store. It’s certainly… bold. And not something Dean would ever want to be seen in.

But as Cas holds up the silver suit, looking happier than Dean has seen him all day…

There’s no way that Dean could say no to him. Not when Cas is beaming, all toothy smile and bright, excited eyes that twist their way into Dean’s heart and stay there.

Dean can never say no to Cas.

He forces a smile and nods, says “Sure, Cas,” but he’s powerless to stop the fake smile from becoming real as Cas grins and hugs the morphsuit to his chest. If that’s what he wants, what makes him happy, then Dean won’t deny him – and if anyone says anything about it, they’ll have Dean to answer to. He won’t stand for anyone picking on Cas – on the bright, curious, wonderful, kind, funny-in-his-own-way Castiel Novak.

Castiel’s face as the cashier bags his costume while Dean pays, and the spring in his step as they leave the store, are enough to have him smiling fondly, especially when Cas carefully sets his bag on his lap when they climb into the Impala. It’s goddamn adorable, and Dean can’t help but grin over at his best friend as they head back to Cas’s.

~

Since Dean has to work on Friday evening with his dad, he and Cas can’t go to the party together. By the time he even gets home, let alone has showered and changed into his costume, the party will be in full swing. His dad wouldn’t let him off, though, so Dean spends his afternoon grumbling to himself from underneath an ugly little Toyota Prius.

When John finally gets sick of his quiet complaining and grumpiness and his tendency to set his tools down with just a little too much frustrated force, he finally lets Dean go. Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Dean is out of the garage like a shot, and the Impala is pulling into the drive of their suburban home not even ten minutes later. The pumpkins standing sentry on either side of the front steps grin eerily up at him, shadowed and creepy in the glow of the street lamps, but Dean just grins back as he passes them. Nothing can dampen his mood.

Sam and his mom are out at Sam’s soccer game, so the empty house means that Dean starts stripping as soon as the front door latches closed behind him. The party began an hour ago, and while most people will turn up fashionably late, Cas will have arrived right on time, and Dean hasn’t seen his friend since…

Okay, since he dropped Cas home after school.

God, he’s pathetic.

He shoves those thoughts out of his mind and strips all the way out of his jeans and t-shirt, dropping them into the laundry hamper along with his boxers when he reaches the bathroom. The tiles are cool under his bare feet, and Dean shivers as he waits for the shower to heat up. This close to Halloween, the nights are beginning to get colder, and he’s grateful for the warm water as he scrubs at the sweat and grease that clings to his skin.

Time is ticking by, though, and Dean is eager to see Cas in his morphsuit (for no other reason than how hilarious a six foot tall silver humanoid will be, and maybe a little bit for the excited, happy smile he knows Cas will be sporting) so he doesn’t spend long in the shower.

Dean Winchester may have walked _into_ the Winchester residence, but Indiana Jones is the one who walks back out twenty minutes later.

Maybe it’s not that much of a resemblance, but Dean still feels like a badass adventurer with his classic Indy fedora, leather jacket and coiled whip on his hip. Will Cas think he looks good? He’s educated his friend on the masterpiece that is the Indiana Jones franchise, although Castiel hadn’t shown the same level of enthusiasm as Dean.

He’s an odd guy, and there’s no accounting for taste. Dean still ~~loves~~ likes him anyway.

Meg’s place is a little way out of town, and Dean has to force himself to keep under the speed limit on his way there. There are already cars parked out the front of the relatively large house, and while it takes Dean a little longer to find somewhere that he doesn’t mind leaving his baby, pretty soon he’s climbing out of his car and making his way up the path to the house.

Two girls, dressed as a cat and a mouse respectively, titter and flutter their lashes at him from the seat on the porch. Dean smiles and winks, but the gestures feel empty and robotic and the two are gone from his mind before he even steps through the door.

Inside, it’s much busier, filled with people drinking and dancing and even making out. Dean makes sure to keep an eye out for a silver-suited teenager amongst the crowd, excited to see Cas and show off the Indiana Jones outfit that (if he says so himself) looks damn good.

He’s not expecting to find Cas standing by the dance floor, talking to a guy.

His friend’s cheeks are flushed, spots of pink high on his cheekbones, and his hair is messy and sticking up every which way – likely from pulling off the head of his suit that now hangs loosely around his neck.

Or from kissing the sandy-haired, blue-eyed stranger who’s standing too close, laughing too loud, drawing the smiles and attention that should be Dean’s.

Dean’s his best damn friend, after all. He’s the one who sees how amazing Cas is, who loves Castiel for his bee obsession, the shelves and shelves of books in his room, the tiny snores he sometimes makes in his sleep. This guy doesn’t know about any of that. He only sees Cas’s body, the morphsuit leaving little to the imagination, and the stretch of chapped, pink lips into a soft, world-stopping smile.

The douchebag – that’s what Dean has decided he is – says something to Castiel, and jealousy curdles in Dean’s stomach as Cas laughs, his eyes crinkling and his teeth flashing white beneath the party lights. It’s meant to be his jokes that Cas is laughing at. That’s how it’s always been. No one could touch the two of them.

He shoves down his jealousy and his hurt and starts to turn away. Drinking hadn’t been on the cards tonight – his parents would kill him if they found out, and he did drive here – but if need be, he can just crash on one of Meg’s many couches.

And then Cas looks over the douchebag’s shoulder and happens to catch Dean’s eye – and his smile is brighter than the goddamn sun. It seems to light him up from the inside, and it steals Dean’s breath so much so that he doesn’t even realize Cas is moving until they’re face to face.

The douchebag scowls as he watches them from his spot by the wall, but Dean only spares a second for internal gloating before he focuses back on Cas, who seems to have become the centre of the room. How has no one else noticed this, the power of Castiel’s pull? The party carries on around them, but Dean can’t look away from eyes that are shockingly blue against the silver morphsuit.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas says, his voice a deep rumble that feels as though it soothes over Dean’s very soul. The corner of his pink lips quirks up ever so slightly. “I almost didn’t think you were coming.”

It’s far easier for Dean to turn on the charm and the humour than to deal with the unnamed flutter in his chest at the sight of those blue eyes and that damn smile. “What, and deprive you of Indy’s glorious presence?” he jokes, touching a finger to the brim of his fedora and winking at Cas. “Come on, you gotta admit, I look hot.”

He’s expecting for Cas to just laugh and roll his eyes – classic Dean, the jokester, what a funny guy.

Instead, his best friend takes half a step back and looks him up and down with a critical eye.

And then he fucking _nods_.

“I have to agree. You look very attractive.”

And it throws Dean for a loop and a half. _What the hell?_

He tries to play it cool and ignore the whatever-the-fuck is going on in his brain right now – but that’s very difficult to do when said brain feels like it’s imploding in on itself with the knowledge that Cas thinks he looks hot. He isn’t sure why it’s such a big deal, but for some reason, all he can get to come out of his mouth is: “I… Uh… Thanks?”

_Idiot_.

“I mean, uh…” He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly and gives Cas a quick onceover – a mistake, as it turns out. The morphsuit hugs his body, and even though it looks a little odd, anyone with eyes can tell that Cas looks damn good. Especially from behind.

“You too,” Dean blurts out, and any semblance of cool he may have retained swiftly evaporates as his cheeks heat in a fierce blush. Fuck, what is wrong with him? He’s an absolute mess, has been ever since he laid eyes on Cas.

Luckily, Castiel just laughs, pulling at the fabric covering his hands so that it sits a little better. “Thank you, Dean. That is very flattering. I must admit, I’ve never worn anything like this before.” When he grins, his cheeks flush, and there’s a brightness in his eyes born of pure happiness that has Dean’s heart beating a little too fast in his chest. “It’s quite warm.”

And it is. Suddenly, the room feels too hot, Dean’s leather jacket stifling him as Cas smiles, sweet and happy. Why is he reacting like this? It’s just Cas, just a party, nothing special. Just Meg’s living room decked out in gaudy Halloween decorations and filled with their half-drunk classmates.

But something feels pivotally different.

The silence has stretched on too long now, and Cas’s smile falters a little when Dean doesn’t say anything, simply stares and tries to make sense of this new feeling, of the sensation of _change_.

“I should get back to Balthazar,” Cas says, taking a step backwards and away from Dean. His gentle smile returns. “He’s nice – he likes bees.”

There’s no way the smarmy dickhead, who’s still watching them from his spot on the wall, really likes bees. He’s just saying that to get into Cas’s pants – or, in this case, his morphsuit.

The mental image of the guy with his hands on Cas, pushing silver fabric down over broad shoulders and trim hips, stealing Cas’s breath with the press of fingers and lips, is not something that Dean wants to think about.

He reaches out and grabs Castiel’s wrist.

“Dean?” his friend asks, his brows pulling down into a frown as he looks up at Dean, then down at the fingers encircling his wrist. “Dean, let me go.”

He knows he should.

But letting Cas go means that he’ll return to the guy by the wall, to _Balthazar,_ with his lies and his wandering hands and stupid name.

And Dean really doesn’t want that to happen.

Suddenly, the world snaps back into place.

_Of course_. He’s such a fucking idiot.

“ _Dean_.” Castiel’s voice brings him back to reality, and he blinks. His fingers ease their grip, and Cas tugs his wrist away, checking the fabric of his suit to make sure it hasn’t torn. “What the hell?” he asks, his voice low and irritated, his eyes flashing with blue fire.

He’s beautiful.

“I love you,” Dean blurts out without thinking, dizzy from the warmth and the proximity and the magic of Halloween.

Castiel goes very still, and Dean realizes exactly what it was that he said.

For a moment, he panics, his brain throwing itself into a code red lockdown. But when he thinks about it, really thinks about it…

He’s known for a long time.

And he knows that it’s true.

The only question is: does Cas feel the same way?

His best friend is still frozen in place, his eyes wide, hair sticking up comically in every direction. Dean’s fingers itch to comb through it, either to smooth it down or muss it up further. But he doesn’t know if he’s allowed, not yet.

“Are you serious?” Cas breathes, barely moving a muscle as he watches Dean. “Do you really mean that?”

They must be a sight: one silver-morphsuited and the other dressed as an Indy wannabe, frozen in time by a declaration of love. They’ve certainly gathered themselves a little bit of a crowd, but Dean couldn’t care less. He only has eyes for Cas. And there’s only one right answer.

“Yes.”

Something shifts in Castiel’s expression, his blue eyes flicking back and forth across Dean’s face, and then he’s stepping forward, grabbing the lapels of Dean’s leather jacket and pulling him in for a kiss.

Dean’s brain just about short-circuits.

It takes him a few stunned seconds to get his act together and kiss back, settling his hands on Castiel’s hips and pulling him closer. At first, the kiss is clumsy, their noses bumping; Dean smiles against Cas’s lips and guides him into a softer, more controlled kiss. He could get drunk of the feeling of Castiel’s mouth on his, the soft sounds he makes when Dean swipes his tongue over Cas’s bottom lip.

When they pull apart, they’re both flushed and smiling, and neither one wants to let go, let alone move away. They’re just here in their own little bubble of awe and happiness, and Dean can’t quite grasp the fact that _Cas loves him back_.

Someone claps close by, and they both turn, startled by the new and jarring sound that lays itself over the music playing in the background. Meg grins at them, her blood-red lips stretched into a grin made grotesque by the fake scars painted across her face. “Finally!” she exclaims. “We were wondering when you two would get your heads out of your asses.”

Dean feels his blush worsen, and knows that his cheeks must be a deep shade of pink. Cas is just grinning up at him, and Dean ducks his head to press a quick kiss to his friend’s (boyfriend’s?) nose.

Castiel pulls him back down by his lapels for another proper kiss as Meg raises her solo cup into the air, and the people around them whoop and catcall.

“To the archaeologist and the fucking disco ball!”

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this, give it a kudos, and let me know what you think in the comments! (also say Happy Birthday to Makenna she is my favourite bean)
> 
> Find me on [Tumblr](http://saltnhalo.tumblr.com)!


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